


Family Crest

by context_please



Series: A Million Little Pieces - Drabbles for Macx's Pushing Boundaries Series [6]
Category: Jurassic Park (Movies), Jurassic World (2015)
Genre: Because of Reasons, Character Study, Explicit Language, Gen, I can't leave OCs alone in peace, This is a tribute, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-16
Updated: 2015-07-16
Packaged: 2018-04-09 16:15:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,443
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4355810
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/context_please/pseuds/context_please
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>His life is weird. He’s got a job caring for a Tyrannosaurus Rex called Sue, has a coworker he really-kind-of-maybe-only-a-little-bit hates, and he can feel animals with his mind.<br/>He wonders why he’s not in a mental institution by now. </p><p>A drabble for Macx's Tainted and Threshold Shift.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Family Crest

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Macx](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Macx/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Threshold Shift](https://archiveofourown.org/works/4242024) by [Macx](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Macx/pseuds/Macx). 



> Have some Josh love!
> 
> While I am overjoyed you've found this little story, I think you should go read Macx's Tainted and Threshold Shift first. It will probably help a little (a lot).
> 
> If you are a returning customer, welcome back. Have a double dose of fic today! (I am actually still up at four in the morning, you'd better be fucking glad. I actually had social plans for once in my life but squeezed this out because I had too many ideas to wait till later this morning.)

He rarely sees his father.

The park is bright around him. Children run around wildly, careening into bushes and trees as he watches. Laughter rings in his ears, sickly sweet. The bright primary colours of the playground catch at the back of his eyes. He could join the other children but he’s not sure he wants to. He settles for watching them instead.

Leaning back against a tree trunk, Josh sighs. The bark is rough through his t-shirt, itching up his spine. He ignores the sensation, turning his face up. Bright sunlight zigzags down layers of green leaves, dappling warm spots onto his cheeks. Green shifts like an ocean above his head, swirling languidly.

Bees hover lazily in front of his eyes, silhouetted in gold. He closes his eyes – relishes the spots of sunlight on his skin. He seeps into the world, beyond his body. The park buzzes around him, faint individual pinpricks of insects layering on top of each other. He filters into the soil, and he can feel them.

He listens.

Josh opens his eyes, looks to his left. His mother is curled up on the picnic blanket, bright red fabric stark against her pale skin. Her eyes flutter restlessly under her eyelids. Black smears mar the skin under her eyes, and the wrinkles on her forehead are only smoothed until she wakes again. Her yellow dress is as tired as the rest of her, brown hair lackluster and flat. She’s not resting, even in sleep.

Josh isn’t sure why she brings them here. Why she packs up their lunch, puts in in an old, woven picnic basket, and spreads the blanket over the same patch of grass every Sunday, but she does. She says she wants to spend time with him. Worries that he’s lonely, with his dad at work and her shifts at the nursing home. She brings him to the most beautiful tree in the park and asks him to talk. He _umms_ and _ahhs_ his way through a recall of his week: tells her about his English class and how he scored a ninety on a math test. She asks him how his friends are going. He tells her Caleb is going well, doesn’t have the heart to tell her otherwise. Doesn’t have the heart to confess that he hasn’t seen Caleb in a month; eats lunch alone in a corner of the school courtyard, shoulders hunched and head down. He babbles, struggles to find the words to keep her happy. When he runs out of things to say, she is napping fitfully, finding a brief moment of rest.

He falls silent, throat aching.

And now he watches over her, feels the world around him, and keeps quiet.

He wishes his dad were here. He would know what to do.

Josh hasn’t seen him in five days. He’s been home, but only after Josh goes to bed and before he leaves for school in the morning. Dad says he’s busy with the business, making sure he provides the best products for his customers. But Josh wishes he would stay at home. Wishes he would stop caring about customers and start caring about Josh and his mum.

Josh sighs, rests a hand on his mum’s shoulder. Her skin is warm and familiar under his fingertips.

A tiny squawk interrupts his musing.

He glances to his left, peering around his knee. Resting in the vivid green grass, a cygnet sits. She’s a tiny little thing, almost lost in the grass around her. Josh opens his mind to her, watches as she feels him brush along the edge of her mind. He’s tried this before with cats and dogs, but the adults are different to the babies. She greets him like a long lost friend, inviting him to see her thoughts. She’s hungry and scared. She doesn’t know where her mother has gone.

Josh thinks that sometimes, too.

She’s covered in a charming layer of grey down, little black eyes fixed on him. Her charcoal feet match her beak, and she’s so unexpectedly graceful he pauses for a moment. Her neck curves gently to her body, and if it weren’t for the layer of fluff she carries, she would pass for a miniature copy of her parents. Her emotions float on the surface of her mind. It’s easy for him to connect to her. There’s no underlying temptation to just stay for a while, look a little deeper. Young animals are transparent, always to be taken at face value. It’s only adults that have layers to them, hidden secrets and desires. They are not vast like a plain, but deep like a well. From the outside, animals seem small. On the surface, the depth of an animal is hard to gauge. Only when he starts to look deeper does Josh begin to understand the roots of an animal’s ‘soul’. He’s not sure exactly what a soul is, but if it’s anything, it has to be the spark of warmth at the heart of an animal’s mind. The core of everything. When he glimpses this ‘soul’, he’s so deep he doesn’t really know who he is anymore. So far removed from his own body that it’s easier to stay there.

Josh remembers the time he got too close, too deep. He stopped hearing the shouting in his ears, the shaking of his body. Stopped feeling his legs curled tight beneath him and the breeze against his face. But he was getting closer to the core of the cat, was about to _see_ her. It was so irresistible, so tempting, to just keep sinking. Fall into the open arms of her mind. Wrap the spark of warmth around him and stay.

Suddenly, his father was there. In the cat’s mind, pushing him away. Severing the connection with axe-like precision.

And he was back in his body, panting wildly, heart thundering so loudly in his ears he didn’t hear his mother shouting. It was only when warm arms wrapped around him and dragged him into dad’s lap that he fully returned to himself. Josh had tears streaming down his face, painting his skin, and he turned to sob into dad’s shoulder. Had cried and promised to be careful. ‘Never go deep, Josh,’ he dad said, voice deadly serious. ‘You won’t be _you_ anymore. You hear me, Josh? Never.’

‘Yes, daddy,’ he whimpered, sorry. So, so sorry.

He promised, and he’ll keep his word.

The cygnet honks quietly at him, not sure how to interpret the whirlwind of his mind.

He smiles at her, pushes down the memory. Reaches a hand out, feels her little feet as she steps onto it. She likes his hands, wants him to pat her. So he does, feeling her soft down against his skin. Josh smiles at her, says, ‘Hello there. Nice to meet you too. Where’s your mum?’

She honks at him, confusion and fear floating on the slick surface of her mind. She doesn’t really understand the words, but he puts images behind them. Puts meaning into his speech.

He stands as she sends him vague images of a body of water, directing him. Follows her as she honks at him, keeping up a constant chatter. A kid nearby glances at him, but he ignores them. It doesn’t matter what they think of him.

It matters that the little cygnet has just seen her mum. Recognizes the feel of her mother against her mind. Knows her like only a child knows a parent.

Josh smiles, approaches the lake and the beautiful swan that glides across its surface towards him. The cygnet honks at him, overjoyed and thankful that she’s not alone anymore.

He swallows the pain in his throat and sets her down, cuts the connection. Wishes one day he’ll feel that way.

 

 

 

The graveyard is too grey. Too droll.

There are bright points of colour scattered amongst the graves like a child’s painting, sporadic and unstructured. Flowers litter the ground, soft petals on hard stone. It’s the second time in his life Josh has worn a suit, and he wishes he could be glad for it.

Dad’s coffin disappears into the ground. The sun beats down on it, bright and cheerful. His father is gone and the world loves it.

There were too many wrinkles in dad’s face. Too many grey hairs on his head. Too many clogs in his arteries. Too much love for Josh and his mum, too much care for his business, and not enough time.

And he’s dead.

Josh weighs his dad’s signet ring in his palm. The metal is cool against his fingers, nothing left to remind him that a week ago it had been on his dad’s finger. All that’s left is the familiarity of the family crest emblazoned upon it. A symbol from times long past. The achy feeling in his gut is all that reminds him it was dad’s. The metal is cold in his palm, smooth from hundreds of years of Stein fingers. Scratches litter the surface, so obvious in the bright sunlight.

He puts an arm around his mother’s shaking shoulders and slips the ring onto his middle finger, clenching his hand around it.

The feel of it leaves a bitter taste in the back of his throat, but at least it’s familiar.

 

 

 

 

The fifth time he wears a suit, he’s leaning in front of Claire Dearing’s office. The lining of the suit jacket is silky against his forearms – the sleeves of his shirt are rolled up beneath them. His tie hangs loosely around his neck, pulled down low enough to reveal a little triangle of skin at the base of his neck. He’s met Claire before, at the initial interview for the position. He doesn’t think a little extra skin will help him, but if it does, it’s worth it. Plus, he likes wearing suits. He’s never really had the chance – he’s gonna look as good as possible for as long as possible.

Josh is trying to find the best angle of sprawl when two sets of high heels click down the hall.

He glances to his right, unhooks a hand from his pocket. Claire is graceful as ever, dressed in all white as she talks quietly with the woman behind her. He pushes himself off of the wall as they come closer but keeps the seductive slouch of his shoulders. A man’s gotta do what a man’s gotta do.

Josh really, _really_ wants this job.

‘Ah, Mr Stein,’ Claire says, arching an eyebrow at him. Josh knows he should stop the coy smile spreading over his face, the smirk in his eyes. But he’s never been able to resist danger. He’d spent half of his life running from his talent and the other testing how deep he can go without getting lost down the fucking rabbit hole. He’d promised dad, but he wasn’t there to catch Josh. Left mum empty and Josh with a permanent hole in his chest. When he got sick of people asking if he was o-fucking-kay, he’d just quipped sarcastically, and they’d left.

He’s a jokester now. And it settles wrong in his gut, takes root in his intestines and won’t let them go. He’ll never get it out.

‘Ms Dearing,’ he greets, tipping his imaginary hat to her.

‘I would like you to meet your competition for this position,’ Claire says, a smirk pulling at the corners of her mouth. ‘This is Laurel Shepperd. She’s very highly qualified.’

Josh raises an eyebrow incredulously. Twists his signet ring around his finger, the cling of metal against his skin leaving a disgusting tang at the back of his throat. Laurel Shepperd isn’t really a small woman. She’s slim but strangely tall, just an inch shorter than Josh. She’s rocking a power suit like it’s no one’s business, and Josh thinks he should have pulled his tie up after all. Laurel’s eyes are too sharp, fixing on him. Long dark hair curls on her forehead, barely an inch above her icy eyes. Her cheekbones are high and sharp. She’s gorgeous.

And she’s also totally off-limits.

That doesn’t stop him smirking at her, offering a hand. ‘I expect no less,’ he says, ‘I would introduce myself, but I think you already know about me.’

Laurel smiles, completely charming. ‘Only a little,’ she replies, hand firm in his own.

‘I guess you have me at a disadvantage, then.’

Her lips quirk coyly at him. Oh, that’s vastly unfair. ‘I guess I do,’ she says.

Yep, he hates her.

The interview is a complete train wreck. He spends half his time bickering with Laurel and the other desperately trying to promote himself. By the end of the interview, he wants to wash himself ten times over. He sold himself like a whore on a street corner. The problem is, Laurel actually _is_ very highly qualified. While Josh has worked with lions and tigers, birds of prey and sharks, spent time in the minds of animals, Laurel has a shit-ton more experience than he does. They’re the same age and she’s got so much on her resume he swears she’s fifty years old. He’s so fucked.

His hands are jittery when Claire finally calls a halt to the interview. His lungs are shuddering and his pulse races in his ears but he smirks, hunches his shoulders down. Twists his ring around his finger.

Claire Dearing eyes them, hands folded together neatly. ‘The truth is, you both have the job,’ she admitted, completely unfazed as Josh’s mouth flaps open. ‘We need two keepers for the Tyrannosaurus, and you two are the best we have.’

Laurel glances at him, eyes narrowed suspiciously.

‘What?’ he asks, taken aback. ‘You thought I knew about this?’

She doesn’t say anything, just raises an eyebrow.

‘I am _hurt_ ,’ Josh pouts, crossing his arms over his chest.

‘You two will be able to get along, I trust?’ Claire asks. There’s a grin on her face. Frustration rises in his throat. He should really stop letting people play him.

Laurel smiles winningly at him. He’s not sure he wants the job anymore.

 

 

 

He and Laurel try to get along. They really do.

Josh even makes an effort to be nice, offering to hook the goat to the feeding post before they raise it into the rex’s enclosure. He spends more time shoveling shit than someone in his position should do.

Laurel still looks like she wants to mount his balls on a pike.

Sue’s mind is small but fierce. She reminds him of Laurel, all barely concealed rage and love of human flesh. She remembers what it tasted like, those twenty years ago, and she would kill again. Sue watches them all, wondering what they will taste like. Initially, it scared the shit out of him. Now he finds it kind of amusing, points out the extra juicy tourists.

Sue’s grumpy as fuck, but sometimes she indulges him. Josh is under no illusions he has any control over her. She just knows he’s there. Knows Josh and Laurel feed her, keep her safe from outside threats as surely as they keep her trapped. She hates them. Tolerates their presence. On good days, she doesn’t mind them. Sue’s a confusing creature. But she’s the most dangerous he’s ever known – hunting instinct at the front of her mind, sharp predatory urges barely muffled by complex thought. Josh is completely fucking unsurprised that he ended up with her.

And with Laurel, of all people.

He’s staring into Sue’s tiny eyes when she comes to the observation platform one day. Stands beside him, watching Sue.

‘She’s different,’ Laurel murmurs. ‘Her mind feels…’

He can’t describe it either. Can’t possibly vocalize Sue’s raw animality, her beautifully vicious mind. The edge of danger to her thoughts. He can’t say any of it. So instead, he says, ‘yeah.’

It’s stupid and inadequate but it’s good enough for now.

 

 

 

 

His life is weird. He’s got a job caring for a Tyrannosaurus Rex called Sue, has a coworker he really-kind-of-maybe-only-a-little-bit hates, and he can feel animals with his mind.

He wonders why he’s not in a mental institution by now.

Sue doesn’t understand what he’s thinking, but the sudden moment of weakness washes over her mind like water. It’s like she can smell it on him. Her eyes, normally darting over the shifting green of her enclosure, fix squarely upon him. They’re tiny in her fucking huge head – tiny and mean, orange flame in her eye. An image flashes through his mind, visceral like the slip of sand through his fingers. He screams as she snaps her jaws down on him, cutting him off. He is barely more than a snack to her, a piece of jerky between her jaws. But the snap of his bones is so satisfying to her ears, the slide of blood over her teeth a call to instincts she sometimes forgets she has. His gut twists viciously, heart pounding wildly. She snorts heavily, and he can practically feel it on his face.

A hand is on his shoulder, shaking his body. ‘Come on, Josh,’ a voice says, urgent and low. ‘Come back. You have to come back.’

Oh shit. He’s deep and he hadn’t even realized it. Was too caught up in the visceral feeling of being crushed in Sue’s jaws and came to close to the core of her. Sue’s mind is small but sharp and she’s reaching for him, drawing him in.

And then Laurel’s there, slapping him full in the face and catching him when his knees give up the ghost.

He gasps back to himself, chest heaving wildly. He’d been so close. Too close. Blood pounds through his head, aching in his mind. Laurel’s hands are warm on his shoulders and face, her voice quiet as she says, ‘you’re here, you’re here, don’t worry. You’re here.’ Sue’s footsteps rumble through the observation room as she walks away, retreating from his mind. She knows his weakness now. He’s not stupid enough to let it happen again. Doesn’t know what will happen if it does.

‘Didn’t know you cared,’ he groans, voice completely shot.

Laurel snorts derisively at him, the same snort he’s been hearing for weeks. But there’s an undercurrent of softness to it, something he’s not sure he’s heard before. ‘Don’t get your hopes up,’ she retorts, but her arms are winding around him, drawing him into her. With her left hand, she twists his ring around his finger. Rubs the warm metal against his skin. His stomach aches, pain spiking through his gut. Josh heaves, empties his lunch onto the floor to his right. Vomit burns viciously at the back of his throat. Laurel just talks him through it, twists his ring around his finger endlessly. He snatches his hand back, tucking it under his shuddering arm. The ring is just a stupid reminder. And he hates himself every morning he forces it onto his finger. Josh just can’t take it off – it’s fused into him. He wishes he could.

Laurel’s arms are still around him, even after he hyperventilated and puked right next to her. ‘I’m not leaving, Josh,’ she says, voice soft with so many things he can’t name. ‘You’re my best friend. Please don’t lose yourself. Just… please.’

His throat closes tight and his eyes burn. ‘I promise,’ he chokes out. Maybe he’ll keep it this time.

 

 

 

 

A year later, after somehow managing to deal with endless queries from fucking moronic interns _all day long_ (he thinks Laurel is all that keeps him sane, these days), he stumbles home. Doesn’t even bother cooking. Reheating the leftovers of last night’s shitty dinner and tilting his head back so it slides down his throat rather than contaminating his tongue, he doesn’t even bother staying up. Josh folds his shirt haphazardly, opens the entirely wrong drawer to put it in but doesn’t bother opening the one below it.

The glint of metal greets him. It’s his old ring, emblazoned with his family crest. Worn by his forefathers for generations. He’ll give it to his son one day – he knows this. Pretend his gut doesn’t churn when he slides it onto his own finger. Pretend he takes pride in a piece of metal that makes him feel utterly useless.

But for now, it’s in his drawer. He’s not sure when he stopped swallowing down bile as he slipped it on his finger. Not sure when he left the ring in his drawer. Not sure when it gained a permanent home there.

He runs his fingertip over the burnished metal, bile burning at the back of his throat.

Josh closes the drawer and breathes.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm definitely going to write a separate Laurel piece, don't worry. But those two kind of come in a pair and I couldn't resist!
> 
> Thanks for letting my borrow your OCs again, Macx!


End file.
